


I Love You

by allstoriesintheend



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blackhawk - Freeform, Clintasha - Freeform, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstoriesintheend/pseuds/allstoriesintheend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times those words are spoken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

The first time he says it, it just slips out of his mouth. They have just finished their tenth mission together and he's insisted on celebrating getting to that number without either of them dying or having a near fatal injury. They're sitting in his apartment, bottles lying all around the table from how much he's drank. He had become drunk about an hour into their small celebration, while Natasha maintained a steady pace with her drinks.

One empty bottle of vodka is sitting by her feet, but she is nowhere near as drunk as Clint. She is easily moving through the second one when she decides that he's had enough to drink, after he starts using the bottle in his hand as a microphone, singing to her. The words to the song are difficult to make out, so she gives up and instead pries the bottle from him, placing it on the table with the rest.

This is a state that Natasha has never seen him in – of course she has his fun nature at SHIELD sometimes, but never like this. His natural behaviour was something that she had learnt to tolerate and even enjoy, over the two years that they had been working together. At first she didn't want to tolerate him or even have him around her, but as time went on she accepted his friendship and grew more comfortable with him, letting him in a little and in return, having him let her in.

His words are slurred as she helps him off the sofa, pulling one of his arms around her shoulders to support him as she leads him to his bedroom. She forces him to sit down when they get there, ignoring the laughter that's spilling out of his mouth along with broken pieces of a joke. A roll of her eyes and then she has left the room, retrieving a glass of water for him.

By the time she comes back, he has slipped into the bed, pulling the sheets up to his shoulders. She puts the glass on the set of draws next to his bed, telling him that she's going to leave. A flash of movement and he has grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her closer to him. She sighs softly and looks down at him, seeing a wide smile decorate his face.

"What, Barton?"

"I love you, Tasha. Do you know that?"

His voice is barely above a whisper, like they're in a room full of people and he's sharing information with her that was to be something only he knew. She stiffened at his words, but brushes them off as if they are nothing, because he's drunk. This isn't the man she knows, this is someone else who has taken over for the night in celebration. Her eyes travelled to his face to find his own closed, having begun to lightly snore. She wraps a hand around his shoulder and pulls him onto his side before she leaves, shrugging off his words as the apartment door shuts behind her.

The following day she doesn't mention the moment and Clint doesn't seem to recall anything from that night other than singing into the beer bottle.


	2. Part 2

The next time they're said, the words are without the shroud of alcohol. Ten years have passed since Natasha was first brought to SHIELD by Clint, and by now they have taken up rooms in the tower with the rest of the team. Their relationship has barely differed, both of them finding no reason to disrupt the way they lived their lives. They move seamlessly through different stages – partners in the field, friends in the workplace, to something a little deeper and much more personal when they are alone. Neither of them questions the relationship they have because it works.

Natasha had just returned from a solo mission when he came to see her. Three months apart and a broken wrist left him with nothing to do but to almost pine for her, finding that he missed her much more than he thought he would have done. She had teased him before she left about him missing her, but he had brushed it off with a counter remark and a cheeky smile.

The coffee in her favourite mug is handed to her before the words are spoken again. She takes the mug and places it on the desk in front of her, next to the first aid kit that is strewn across the wooden surface. She's in the middle of dressing the wound on her thigh he speaks.

"I love you."

He didn't plan it; the words just slipped out of his mouth. He blinked a few times, surprised at what he has said and how fast the words managed to escape him – words that he had been holding back for some time, refusing to admit his feelings to her. He knows that he shouldn't have let himself get so involved with her, that he shouldn't have let his feelings take over. He knows that they won't be reciprocated by her and that he is foolish for even falling for her. Her response to his words is to immediately roll her eyes, acting as though she has not heard his words.

"Natasha. I love you."

He finds it easier to say them this time, licking his suddenly dry lips while he looks at her. She finishes dressing her wound and tapes the bandages down, not daring to meet his eyes.

"No you don't."

Her words are flat and uncaring as they meet his ears, the opposite to the feelings that are hiding in her eyes that refuse to look up to his.

"I do. I have done, for a while now."

"You shouldn't have let your emotions get in the way."

"They aren't in the way of anything, Tasha."

He began to grow impatient with her, finding that he is growing angry with the situation than anything else. He would have rather had her say that she didn't love him rather than tell him that his feelings weren't correct, telling him that he's lying to her.

"Love is for children, Barton."

Her voice is quiet, but firm with her words. He knew he had lost her at that moment. She didn't refer to him as Barton unless they were at work, or he had done something that had angered her.

"You're a liar, Natasha. You know you're wrong. Why can't you accept that this is happening? That this is our relationship now?"

It only takes a second before she's standing. The words start flowing from their mouths like they don't mean anything, screaming at each other with anger laced in their voices. Clint's bellowing at her, pointing fingers and telling her she's wrong while she defends her words, screeching at a decibel he didn't think she could reach. Their argument is loud enough to carry through the tower, their echoes bouncing off the walls as the argument becomes more intense. Soon noises start to accompany their voices, pieces of furniture being hit and kicked while they continue. He ends up storming out of her room, slamming the door shut with enough force to make the hinges groan. The mug of coffee that he brought for her is smashed against the other side, shattering to pieces as it impacts. He stalks off to his own room, leaving her to growl in hers.

It's a long time before either of them talk to each other after that and when they finally do, they return to how they were before the argument, like nothing had happened. They fall back into being partners in the field, nothing more and nothing less.


	3. Part 3

The third time the words have the privilege of being spoken, it's an almost inaudible whisper between the two. A year has passed since the last time they were spoken, and neither of them had truly forgotten that argument. They're on a mission together, sharing a tiny hotel room with two separate beds. Their day was dangerous, coming to a few narrow misses on his half. She had pushed him out of the way twice – once they had both cleared the shot, but the second time she hadn't been quick enough and the bullet had clipped the upper part of her left arm. After fixing her up as best he could, silence had taken over for them.

He's facing away from her, lying on his side with the bow next to the bed and the quiver propped up against the wall. He took the bed closest to the door to be some form of protection, even though she didn't need it and he knew that she didn't.

Sleep is evading him. As much as he tries to catch it, he just can't quite latch on to the idea and is instead forced to lie there uncomfortably, staring at the door. A creak of springs, some light footsteps and a lift of the sheets make him turn over to see her lying in the bed with him, her eyes searching for his in the dark. They haven't shared a bed for a long time now, but before their argument it wasn't uncommon. Never the one to give in first, this was unusual for her, to be the one climbing into his bed. If the day hadn't gone the way it did, she wouldn't be lying there with him now. She just needed the comfort of him, to know that he was still there after everything.

He stroked some of her hair back off her face and slipped an arm around her as best he could while both of them share the tiny single bed. They stay like that for a while; pressed close against each other, never speaking. His chin rested on the top of her head comfortably while she had one hand on his shoulder, her face pressed against his chest. He was slipping in and out of sleep when her voice disturbed him.

"I love you."

Natasha's voice is barely above a whisper. He blinked a few times before moving back as best he could to look down at her. In the darkness, he can make out that her eyes are closed, making him question whether she's actually asleep or awake. She remained motionless, her breathing quiet. He slowly comes to the realisation that it doesn't matter whether she's asleep or not, because the words passed her lips and they were spoken to him and only him. He knows that Natasha fights to keep her emotions at bay thinking they make her weak, but here while she's safe with him she's let them out. He doesn't mind that she waited this long to say it, all that he cares about is that she's admitted something to him that he knows is difficult for her.

A kiss pressed to her temple is all he needs to do to respond to her, moving back close and going back to resting his chin on the top of her head. He sighs happily and manages to fall asleep, just as she presses a kiss to the base of his throat. She had been awake the entire time he had been looking at her, but chose to keep her eyes closed so she didn't have to let him see emotion pooling in them. She didn't like letting anything show, but with him it's different. That's why she had to say the words; even if it was the only time they would pass her lips. She just needed to let him know how she felt. She slipped into sleep, listening to his light snoring, keeping herself pressed against him comfortably.

The morning after, neither of them needs to say anything, because their faces say it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Transferred over from fanfiction.net.


End file.
